Fragile Mental State
by Thatothercrazyflatmatein221B
Summary: John Hamish Watson has finally reached his breaking point and has lost his mind. He finds himself locked away in a Salem all alone wanting to die to be reunited with what he thinks is his dead best friend Sherlock not knowing that all he knows in his mind to be real really isn't


"SHERLOCK, SHERLOCK " John woke up screaming in a cold sweat in his lonely tiny patted room in the Salem Harry had locked him in once he got back from Afghanistan after his psychiatrist had suggested it. It was the third time he had awoken that night after having nightmares of Sherlock jumping off St. Bart. This was a common sight by now to the security cameras in his room which observed his every move assuring his safety.

John Hamish Watson had been relocated into the patted room after only a week of been out, for his third attempted suicide within a month of arriving at the institution. He had only been let out of the room and allowed to interact with other patients, twice in the four long weeks that had passed since his arrival.

The first time he had been moved into the patted room he had only been in the Salem three days before attempting his first suicide during lunch; he had tried shoving a plastic fork down his throat trying to choke himself. After this incident he got reevaluated by the psychologies there and was found to be a danger to himself and others around him and was relocated in the small patted white room alone with his thoughts.

John wasn't really dangerous he was only hurt and very, very lonesome. All John Watson wanted in life was to be reunited with his best friend, the clever detective Sherlock Holmes who a month and a half before had committed suicide himself. And now little John saw suicide as the only gate way back to his friend.

John Hamish Watson had been in a fragile mental state for moths before he got back from Afghanistan; after he got shot on the leg in Afghanistan, the wound had gotten infected causing him terrible fevers making him hallucinate. He had been in Afghanistan for about five years and he was a very lonely and troubled man. Shortly before he signed up for the war he had been going through a rather bitter divorce with his college sweetheart who after only two years of marriage had cheated on him breaking the poor doctor's heart.

John signed up to the army and became a doctor to run away from the pain and bitterness he felt. In Afghanistan he had been able to help people and he felt good about himself for many months which turned into years rather quickly, his military career strived and he got promoted to captain by the second year of his service there.

During his time in Afghanistan he saw many violent deaths and horrible wounds which for any ordinary person would have been unimaginable to picture. John Watson had saved as many lives as he saw parish and he always tried his best in bringing them back once they slipped away. He went under many traumas and he even had to kill in self defense at times.

One of the kills John Hamish Watson made was one of the most terrible mistakes a person could ever make; this kill wasn't self defense but the carelessness of a man. John was cleaning a riffle after a night's shift and a shot was accidentally fired hitting a young curly haired boy who was passing by the military base as John was passing the dirty humid cloth around the trigger of the weapon.

No one knew where the boy had come from or where he was going; he wasn't a soldier for he was too young. The boy was about eleven and clearly lost. Everyone was puzzled by the boy's presence in the base during the night they looked for traces of where he had come from after that night coming empty handed. They never find out who the boy was, whether he had a family searching for him or he was a run away or something but instead they were able to find nothing about the mysterious boy, absolutely nothing.

John immediately when to work taking the wounded boy into the medical tent he was so used to working in and attempted a very difficult and dangerous brain surgery on the child trying to pull out the bullet immerged within its brain with hardly any right medical utensils. The base John was serving for had gone out of funding and they had very little to none supplies left.

John successfully pulled out the bullet from the boy's brain but the child had lost too much blood in the process of the surgery and died on the table. John tried his hardest to bring him back he performed CPR on his corpse for over an hour leaving bruises on the lifeless body.

"Don't do this to me; come on, come on, you can do it, just hang on!" John panted time after time as he pushed with all his force against the boy's chest trying to restart his small heart. Other officers had to pull him away from the boy because he wouldn't give up even after it was clear the boy was completely gone.

John was never the same after that he would often wake up in the middle of the night panting because he had night mares of the boy. John became so consumed with guilt that after weeks of the accident he could not sleep because every time he closed his eyes he would see the boy's eyes staring at him questioning him why he didn't help him, why he didn't try harder to bring him back, why he had let him die like that. And John could do nothing but loose himself in the guilt he felt.

He had killed a child, an innocent child who had nothing to do with the war, he was no enemy he was just a small lost child who wander off into the wrong place at the wrong time and met death. Three months after the boy's death John got shot in the leg and started to hallucinate, making up stories about the boy in his head.

In his mind the boy had grown up and he had become a successful detective who helped the police solve the most difficult and cleverest of crimes. In his dreams he had gone back home to London and he was friends with the boy who he named Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was his best friend and they lived together in a flat in Baker Street. John made up an entire life with the boy he had killed and everything was well.

John had created a whole alternate reality to his life and he rather live in the cleaver world of Sherlock Holmes solving crimes alongside the young detective where he would be of assistance to him and would make him happy. Everything was brilliant and clever and fun in the alter reality of John Watson; until he had thought up Sherlock's evil playful arch enemy, Professor Jim Moriarty. John didn't know why he thought Moriarty up. He just did and by doing so he killed the young boy once again; but this time was different, this time John had emotional attachments to him.

This time John had spend enough time with him to know him better than anyone could and he had fallen in love with him, with his wit with his personality with his body with all that he was and soon that was to be no more. The day came that John had become selfish enough to let his mind go a bit too far and explore just enough to make Sherlock Holmes, the boy he had grown to love and admire, the boy he had grown so fond off and most of all the boy he had given the second chance in life in his imaginary world was now to die for him and for his own selfish safety.

The day Sherlock had jumped off the hospital building in John's head he felt even more guilt than he did the day he had failed bringing him back. This time in this alter reality he had become so costume to; he had killed the only reason in his mind he had to live for and all he wanted now alone inside a patted room in a Salem was to be reunited with his friend once again and forever.


End file.
